


BORG SALAD DAYS

by JanewayorNoWay



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23622256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanewayorNoWay/pseuds/JanewayorNoWay
Summary: "My salad days... when I was green in judgment, cold in blood..." Antony & Cleopatra, William ShakespeareSeven is struggling with a myriad of strange new sensaations.
Relationships: Kathryn Janeway/Seven of Nine
Comments: 36
Kudos: 92





	BORG SALAD DAYS

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what quarantine does? It makes you write things. Was wondering if there's a story any of you'd like to see. Any particular way they approach the relationship? A particular moment or episode that you'd like to see how it played out between Janeway and Seven afterward? Any timeline? In the Delta Quadrant? Post Endgame? Any weird alien viruses or societal rules that tickle your fancy? A seemingly insurmountable obstacle? Leave it in a comment and I'll do my best to pound out a story. You're bored and standed, I'm bored and stranded. What could be better?

###  **BORG SALAD DAYS **

I wished to explore my humanity. Yet, my methods of research had proven insufficient and prone to error. My first attempt at the human ritual of “dating” ended with injury to Lt Chapman. The result did not make sense to me. I had employed clear logic, using a system of grading I had deduced that he was the most likely candidate. Not only had the date been a disaster but, I had failed to experience anything other than my usual cool Borg analysis.

The Captain explained that logic did not work in human mating. I decided to abandon my efforts as, without logic, I found no appeal in it.

That was 133 days, 3 hours and 17 minutes ago.

13 days, 7 hours and 6 minutes ago, I experienced a strange confluence of sensations with Captain Janeway on the Delta Flyer as I was fleeing what I believed was a conspiracy to end my existence. This was not the first time I had encountered this particular cluster of sensations. It is only the first time I understood their meaning.

Prior to that moment, I had felt twinges of many of the emotions she described as “human.” They were brief glimpses of chaos and confusion, many times in direct opposition to what I wished to feel. Sadness instead of anger at her illogical compassion for species 8472. Grief instead of outrage at her disappointment in me. I did not understand these emotions. I did not understand a pain that was not caused by a physical wound. In each of these moments, I had experienced an awakening of different aspects of my humanity. I did not realize they were preparing me for greater insight into the nature of my Captain’s feelings for me.

As I was fleeing what I believed to be a conspiracy to return me to the borg, the Captain transported onto my vessel and countered my arguments with remembrances of our connection. When she knelt before me, touched my knee, a charge moved from her hand to my midsection, my heart rate increased 7.8%. And then, she looked into my eyes and I experienced a moment of positional disorientation or “freefall.” In that moment, I understood that I loved her. More importantly, I understood that _she_ loved me. And that we had been falling in love with each other for months.

After this encounter, I found myself frequently observing her physical form and finding pleasure in this observation. I noted that her face was both strong and soft. The angle of her cheekbones were aquiline, the line of her jaw was square but it softened into a curve up toward her earlobe. I noted the delicateness of that organ’s cartilage, the smooth curve of her aural helix, wrapping around her antihelix. Each time I traced this line in my memory I expelled air in a low gasp. I felt a low voltage electrical charge run between my thighs and noted the moistening in my groin. My eidetic memory allowed me to recall each gesture, every brush of her hand along my shoulder, her palm against the small of my back. I was startled to discover that the mere recollection of these moments generated sensations that were a of magnitude far beyond those experinced during the actual event.

I began to seek a private space where I could divulge myself in endless remembering. At first, it was precise, exact, as stored in my eidetic memory. Then, I encountered a memory error. I was recalling the event in the Delta Flyer. I traced her actions correctly from the moment she beamed aboard until she kneeled before me, her hand resting on my knee. Then, with no explanation or warning, the Captain was leaning forward, placing her lips on mine. I gasped. I knew this had not occurred. Yet, here, in my mind, it was as vivid as if it had.

I allowed these false memories to have free rein. My mind conjured more false details that provoked pleasure. The Captain’s hands rose up my thighs, sliding around to my aching pubis. Her delicate fingers teased at me through my bio suit. Our kisses grew more heated, my own hands seized her breasts, deftly removed her tunic, slid under her Starfleet tanktop to unclasp her bra, and seized a breast in my hand. It was satisfying and yet, deeply frustrating. All these sensations built to a crescendo with no means of discharging them. My work began to suffer as I craved more time by myself, wanting to live in the life my mind had built for me. I ignored my duties, causing errors. It came to a head when the Captain called me to her ready room to reprimand me.

Her anger and disppointment damaged me. I did not want the object of my desire to find me lacking. I apologized and explained that I had been having trouble concentrating. She became concerned, understanding that it was anathema to me, as a Borg. Her kindness provoked a spontaneous episode of unwelcome trembling as I battled a sudden intense need for her kindness and abject horror at wanting it. She grabbed me, concern etching her face, “Seven, are you alright?” She insisted on accompanying me to Sick Bay, her arm wrapped around my waist for the duration of our journey, her eyes wide with concern, constantly glancing at me as I continued to battle the shaking. I recognized this as fear of the depth of my need for her. Her kindness had only served to let me glimpse the abyss of my want. It terrified me, this endlessly deep well. I could not imagine any human being capable of satisfying it.

As I sat on a bed in sick bay, the doctor scanning me, I attempted to discharge the Captain from her duty to care for me.

“Seven, I’m worried about you. Whatever this is, you shouldn’t have to go through it alone.”

“It is simply exhaustion,” I replied. “I have been having difficulty regenerating.”

The Doctor became concerned, “What do you mean, ‘difficulty’?” How long has this been going on?”

I sighed, exasperated, “My regeneration is interrupted several times a night.”

“Interrupted how?”

My face felt hot with emotional discomfort. “Intrusive thoughts.”

“Intrusive thoughts? What are the nature of these intrusive thoughts?” The Captain asked.

“Doctor,” I growled, “I believe I am allowed privacy during my medical consultations.”

The Captain drew back as if I had physically wounded her. “You’re absolutely right, Seven. I didn’t think. Of course, you should have privacy.” She turned to leave, “I’ll be in my ready room, if you feel the need to discuss anything.”

“I will feel no need,” I told her. She nodded and left.

The Doctor slowly turned to me, confusion coloring his demeanor. “Is there something bothering you, Seven?

"Nothing is bothering me, Doctor. I simply am having difficulty with intrusive thoughts. I am Borg. Borg do not have intrusive thoughts. So, I have had difficulty in navigating this present aspect of my humanity.”

“What are the nature of the thoughts?”

“Can you not just give me a shot to stop them?”

He laughed, “No, there’s no antidote for unwanted thinking.” He turned to the readout on his scanner. “Oh…” He said, then paused thoughtfully, “Are these thoughts… would you call them obsessive?”

I nodded. He turned back to look at the readout of his scans. “Um… This is awkward but, are they in any way of a… sexual… nature?”

I dropped my head and nodded.

“Looking at your scan, I can say it’s to be expected and completely natural…”

“I do not believe they are productive.”

“No, but, they’re very, very… human. I believe you’re going through delayed puberty, Seven.” He pointed to the scanner’s readouts on the monitor.

“As time goes on, more and more of your human system is awakening and doing the job it was supposed to do but was suppressed by your Borg systems. One of those jobs is hormonal. The progression into puberty. It’s a stage in human development that awakens your sexual drive.”

“Do you have a shot for that?” I inquired.

“I do, but I wouldn’t give it to you. This is not something you want to stop, but to celebrate, Seven. It’s a sign that you are becoming more human. The sex drive is one of the most human things there is.”

“I do not like it.”

“You will. Sex is a primary drive for a reason. It’s to continue the species so, it’s wired to be immensely pleasurable.”

“It is only frustrating and painful.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of crewmembers who would be willing to relieve you of this frustration.”

I glared at him, “I am not speaking of copulation, Doctor. Copulation is a mechanical endeavor, devoid of feeling. There is no want, no desire. It is simply two animals fucking.” The shock on the Doctor’s face informed me that I had used the word to it’s proper effect.

“I apologize, Seven. I hadn’t realized you’d evolved beyond that. Is there a particular object of your desire?”

“No.” I lied.

“Have you tried… self- relief?”

“This consultation is over,” I growled and quickly exited sick bay.

**< ><><><><><><><>**

I did not want to do this. For three reasons:

One: It would be awkward and difficult.

Two: Seven would be furious at the violation of her privacy.

I knew she’d be angry at the Doctor for revealing her situation to me, but what else was he supposed to do? We’d had plenty of proof, since her arrival, that, despite her brilliance in many areas, she was incredibly innocent and ignorant of most human things. The doctor told me because he wanted to protect her from being taken advantage of. I would have to do my best to make her undertsand this.

As for reason three: I was in love with her.

And the last thing I wanted to do was explain sexual desire to the object of my affection. I wasn’t in any danger of doing anything salacious or untoward, I wasn’t worried about that. Because, unlike my hormonal crewmembers, I wasn’t led around by my “dick.” I’d been here before. I’d lived long enough to know that sexual crushes happened and to act on them was sheer folly. To even engage in private fantasy was dangerous. I wasn’t some 20 year old cadet but, a 44 year old woman with time and experience and I knew that sexual affairs were adolescent fantasies. I had a ship to run. I couldn’t expend energy on endlessly dreaming about a relationship with a crewmember 16 years my junior. That’s what I told myself whenever my body betrayed me… cotton mouth, butterflies, weak at the knees, she triggered them all.

When the door chimed, I quickly replicated two fingers of whiskey and downed them to settle my nerves. I wasn’t worried about me but, about Seven and how she might respond to this invasion of her privacy. I didn’t want to do or say anything that would stunt her latest venture into Humanity. She entered as usual, chin up, that defiant look on her face and stood stiffly, her hands clasped behind her back.

“Thank you for coming Seven.”  
  
“It was an order, Captain. I do not disobey direct orders.”  
  
“Well, it was more of a request.”  
  
“I see. So I could have refused.”  
  
God she was so obstinate. “I suppose you could have. But what I want to talk to you about is important.”  
  
“Is it concerning my duties?”  
  
“No. It’s more something two friends would discuss. Two female friends. An older, more experienced female friend with a younger, less experienced friend.”  
  
She visibly stiffened. “I believe I know what it is in regard to and I don’t wish to discuss this. I would like to report the Doctor for violating my privacy. I intend to note this in my own report.”  
  
“He did it out of genuine concern, Seven. No other reason. He informed me that your human systems are asserting themselves further. And that it appears you are experiencing delayed puberty.”  
  
“I will neither confirm nor deny this. It is private.”  
  
“Your reaction tells me that it’s essential that we talk about this. There is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s perfectly natural. We all go through it. I did, B’Elanna did. Chakotay. Every human enters puberty as a stage in approaching our adulthood.”  
  
“So sex is adulthood.”  
  
“In a way. The hormones that flood our bodies during puberty do more than trigger sexual urges. They trigger bone growth, the growth of our secondary sex characteristics...”  
  
“I do not believe my secondary sex characteristics have had any difficulty developing prior to this latest human intrusion.”  
  
“That’s true. But like it or not, it’s here and I’m hoping to provide you with answers to any questions you may have. This is something my mother did for me and her mother did for her.”  
  
Seven looked positively repulsed by this statement. “I do not regard you as a mother.”  
  
“Nor do I regard you as a daughter. But, since you have no maternal figure I suppose I will have to do.”  
  
“Understood. I have no questions. May I be dismissed?”  
  
“You have no questions?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You are fully knowledgeable about human sexual interaction?”  
  
Seven paused. “I am fully aware of the mechanics of reproduction for 1,643 different species.”  
  
“Oh,” I chuckled, “Maybe I should be asking you the questions then.”  
  
“In humans the man inserts his penis in the female’s vagina. He ejaculates spermatozoa which travels up the fallopian tubes to the ovaries where it fertilizes the egg...”  
  
“Sex is about more than reproduction, Seven.”  
  
“Noted. I will do further research.”  
  
“It’s also not an activity solely between men and women. Surely, in the 1,643 species you studied, you noted same sex relationships.”

“In those species, they reproduce via parthenogenisis. Humans do not have this capacity.”

“Not naturally, no, but we have the science to do this. We’ve had it for a hundred years. Still, you’re looking at sex as a tool for reproduction.”  
  
“That is the purpose of the drive in all species. It is imperative for the continuation of their race.”

“True. But, it’s more than that. It can also be used strictly for pleasure, if one wishes, or it can be a means of expressing one’s feelings for another. It can create an intimacy between two people who care for each other. It’s not just one thing is what I’m saying.”

“Noted. I have no wish to explore that intimacy. I will just wait until this ‘puberty’ passes and return to my normal state of being.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. God, this was not going to be easy. The look of hurt on her face made me pull myself up short, “I’m sorry, Seven, I’m not laughing at you but, at the notion that you believe your sex drive will end once you’re out of puberty.”

“It does not?” She looked absolutely horrified.

“I’m afraid not. The sex drive can last well into your eighties or nineties. Even longer. Until death,in some people, I suppose.”

“Do you continue to experience a sex drive?” She sounded apalled.

“Of course I do. It’s part of being human and alive. It’s the embodiment of passion. I hope it never dwindles.”

She began to tremble again. I grabbed her arm and led her to the sofa. “Computer, two cups of hot tea, one black and one…” I turned to her,

“Peppermint..” she croaked.

I sat next to her, “Here, take a drink of your tea, relax, it’s okay.”

“I do not think I could go on like this. I have tried to end these piercing thoughts, but it is very difficult.”

“I see. Well, you know there is a way to discharge this energy without engaging in 'copulation' if that’s not appealing to you at this point.”

“You are speaking of masturbation.”

I cleared my throat, “Yes. Um… have you attempted to take care of this yourself?”

She shook her head, “The sensations are too intense, I fear what would happen. Since I cannot stop the thoughts perhaps I could not stop the discharging of them.”

“Well, in puberty, I have to say, masturbation does occur much more frequently than when you’re older. Precisely because the hormones are spiking your sexual desire. But, there’s nothing wrong with that either.”

“How many times a day would one masturbate?”

“Uh… it varies with each individual. I don’t believe there’s a ‘norm.’”

“In puberty, are the sexual thoughts always of one individual?”

“Sometimes. But, that varies also.”

“If one discharges the energy while thinking of this individual, does it make the obsession diminish?”

“I would hope so. I was madly in love with an upperclassman and yes, after a time, they receded and my attentions turned elsewhere.”

“Love can stop? Love for one individual?”

“It happens all the time. Sometimes we mistake sex for love and, over time, we understand it wasn’t really love.”

Seven nodded. “And if you believe this love is reciprocated?”

“Then that’s the holy grail, Seven. To have your love reciprocated and to make love as a means of expressing that well, it’s pretty terrific. Is there a particular person you’re interested in?”

She nodded.

“And you believe this person is interested in you?”

She nodded again.

"That’s terrific!” I took her hands in mine, so pleased that she would have someone she cared for who cared for her. Someone, hopefully, kind and experienced. “All that remains is to make an approach to this person and ask them out. If I can help you do this, I’m happy to. Who is the person?”

“You.” She said, looking directly at me, her blue eyes piercing through to my soul.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It is you, Captain. You are the one who occupies my thoughts day and night.”

I sagged. I was thoroughly confused by now, “I thought you said this person reciprocated your feelings?”

“You do.”

I sat frozen. How could she have possibly known? I’d done nothing to give her any indication.

“As a matter of fact, you ignited this latest foray into my humanity. If it had not been clear to me that you desired me I don’t believe it would have triggered any of these feelings.”

“I don’t believe that, Seven. I’ve never given you any indication that I had any interest in you romantically.”

“On the Delta Flyer. When you came to retrieve me.”

Shit. It had been a momentary lapse. Not more than a nanosecond when I kneeled before her. I’d allowed myself to fully gaze at her with all my love present. But it had been so brief. I stood and crossed to the replicator, “Computer, Whiskey, Irish, two fingers.” When it appeared I quickly downed it, this time for courage. I remained standing, my back to her, “Yes. Your feelings are reciprocated. But, it will never happen, Seven. Not while we’re in the Delata Quadrant, not as long as I’m the Captain of this ship. I’m sorry.”

When I turned back to her, she looked utterly destroyed. “This is why I did not wish to discuss this with you. I understood that you would not allow it.”

“Not just because you’re my crewmember, but because you are so young and inexperienced. For godsakes, you’re just now entering puberty. Despite your chronological age, emotionally you're an adolescent."

"I am twentuy-eight human years old. To call me adolescent is insulting."

"It has nothing to do with your chronological age. But, experience. You haven’t experienced the years of dating and breaking up, of making the mistake of being with the wrong person so you know when the right person appears. I mean, this is your time to do all that, to experience different sexual partners, to have relationships that aren’t for a lifetime. For you to believe you can commit to me alone at this point in your young life, I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

“Is that not for me to decide?”

“In this case, no. Because I know how it ends. I know it seems like you could be with one person forever but, a few years down the road, you’ll realize you want to experience this with other people. And what would that look like? Former lovers trapped on the same small ship for decades? What would my crew think of me? And, how would I cope with watching you be with others? It would end in disaster and heartache, Seven. And I don’t want to be the sadsack Captain who thought she could keep a beautiful young woman to herself. I’m not that vain.”

“It is wrong of you to assume I cannot know love.”

“I’m not saying you don’t know love. But, you don’t know me. Not really. You know one part of me, as your Captain and mentor.” Seven opened her mouth to reply, I held up my hand, “I'm this way with everyone on Voyager with the exception of maybe Tuvok, who’s known me for decades. And, yes, despite my own feelings for you, I don’t know _you_ well enough to understand what it would entail either. And, as long as we’re on this ship, that won’t change.”

She stood and crossed to me, “I do know you,” she said and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me into her. I pushed back, not willing to give in to this adolescent fantasy. “Seven, no.”

“I love you.”

“For now, with limited undertsanding oif who I really am.”

Suddenly, her lips were on mine, I twisted my face away, fighting both anger and heated shots of pure desire. I finally pulled away, “Stop. I don’t want this.” She dropped away, almost falling into the nearby chair. “If you wish for me to gain experience, then that is what I will gain.”

“Be careful, Seven. Don’t use my rejection as an excuse to go out and indiscriminately have sex with unsuspecting souls. You could break their hearts just as much as I’m breaking yours. It would be dishonest. Yes, date. Sleep around. But don’t do it as a means of coming back to me. Move forward. And mostly, be honest, up front, with whoever you’re with. Don’t hurt people you don’t need to.”

“Is that your advice, as my maternal figure?” She hissed. She grabbed her cup of tea and flung it across my quarters. “You have no right to tell me how to engage in copulation with whomever I wish.” With that, she stood and left.

**< ><><><><><><><>**

I had not experienced shame or doubt to the degree I did after The Captain’s rejection. Did she think I was a child? That I did not understand love? I wished to damage her in return. To flaunt my sexual escapades in the face of the woman who claimed to love me but determined I was undesirable in my current state of humanity.

I engaged in fully exploring my sexual awakening. It was not difficult to obtain willing partners in frequent bouts of copulation. The first weeks of this exploration were pleasurable and without obstacles. I had not yet understood that the objects of my quest would be damaged by my quick, random assignations. At first, I was distressed by the frequent appearances at Cargo Bay 2 by these former lovers – angry and weeping, proclaiming their love. But, as I saw their effect on my Captain, I felt satisfaction in seeing the pained expressions as she was informed of each incident. I also received pleasure in noting her adamant avoidance of interference, knowing that she would be concerned that any interference might betray her interest in me. _Good._ I thought, _This is what she has wrought._

As time passed those first few weeks, I began to feel discomfort at wounding others. Innocent crewmembers who I had used as a tool in my revenge. Shame made an appearance. I recognized that wounding innocent victims was more cruel than the wound I had endured. I became more cautious in acquiring sexual partners. The Captain continued to remain at a distance, seemingly impervious to my rampant promiscuity.

I began to seek a better quality of experience. One that would include a connection of some kind. I engaged in dating as a preliminary to copulation. These assignations were more satisfying, though, short term. As the months passed, my desire to engage sexually ebbed. I was content to spend time without a partner. I began to focus my efforts on a person that I could admire or engage in some form of higher interaction with. I wished to find someone I could care enough about so that I would not damage _them_ due to my easy boredom and I would not damage _myself_ with the after effects of loneliness and alienation experienced in my earlier escapades.

This is when I met Lt. L’Zrek Orthun. She was an excellent officer, being a member of Tuvok’s security team. She had studied Quantum Physics at Starfleet. Her plans, after Voyager, had been to move to another ship as the science officer but, like many of the crew, her future plans were rendered null. I tasked myself with spending non-sexual time with her, having observed that humans refrained from copulation during a period they called, “getting to know someone.”

Though Lt. Orthun was far short of Borg standards, she had a brilliant mind. Our philosophical discussions invigorated me. In six weeks, we began dating in earnest. Our sexual relationship coming to fruition shortly thereafter. I did not love her but, cared for her. I determined that this was satisfactory.

Three months into our relationship she confessed her love for me. I expressed to her that I could not return the sentiment but, that I did care for her. She seemed to experience brief anguish but, told me she would allow me time to come to my feelings. Our relationship continued. However, in the ensuing months, my feelings did not change and this caused her undue pain. She confronted me one night after copulating.

“Are you even capable of love, Seven?” She asked.

“Yes.”

“How do you know that? Have you ever loved anyone?”

I nodded. This seemed to surprise her. “Who? Someone you’ve been with?” I shook my head.

“You’re in love with someone else?”

I nodded.

“Someone you haven’t been with?”

“She rejected my advances,” I told her matter of factly.

“Do you think about her when we’re fucking?!”

“Yes. I have many times.” This was apparently the wrong thing to say.

I believed honesty was important in relationship communication. That is what many had told me. _“Honesty, Seven. That’s the most important thing in any relationship_.” It was apparent, by L’Zrek’s tears, that this was a blatant falsehood. Our relationship struggled after these confessions yet, she remained. I assumed I had answered her questions to her satisfaction and our partnership would continue unabated.

Last week, I discovered she haD been engaging in copulation with another crewmember for the last thirty two days, six hours and twenty seven minutes. She is with her at the very moment I am writing this.

I didn’t expect the feelings of pain and betrayal to be so sharp and obtrusive. I became obsessed with thoughts of her with this other crewmember. The imagination that my desire for Captain Janeway had ignited now betrayed me with constant images of the two of them, lying naked, copulating. I examined over and over again where I could have been at fault. Had I been so insufficient of a partner? Had I not abided by all the rules of our relationship? I had difficulty regenerating. I became lax in my appearance. I no longer had a sense of direction and found myself reducing my time in Astrometrics and increasing my time alone in the Cargo Bay. My duties suffered. I began to make errors. Finally, after a particularly dangeorus error, the Captain, unable to ignore my state, called me to her ready room.

**< ><><><><><><><>**

The last eight months have been hell for me. Not just as the woman who loves Seven, but as her Commanding Officer. I was constantly interceding in painful breakups that left crewmembers neglecting their duties. Tuvok had sent security numerous times to stop screaming matches between her jealous lovers. It was sordid and unpleasant at every turn.

I knew I’d broken her heart, so what did I expect? This is why, despite my senior officers repeatedly asking me to “do something about Seven,” I protected her and her position on the ship.

At first she had been incredibly oppositional, becoming more haughty and arrogant in her defiance of my command but, over time, she seemed to have forgiven me. Her escapades reduced and she found a partner in Lt. L’Zrek Orthun, a 27 year old Bajoran. A steady and kind person, an exemplary officer. She settled into a rhythm in the relationship and, though I ached at the idea of having lost her, I was thrilled for her. Then, today, I discovered that Seven had been dumped a week ago by Lt. Orthun who, apparently, had been having a month long affair with a lower deck ensign. I called Seven to my quarters to check on her well being. She arrived looking like hell. her eyes were ringed in dark circles, she was thin and gaunt. I don’t know when she’d last combed her hair. When she entered she immediately confronted me, “Are you happy now, Captain? Is this what you wished for me? Have I fulfilled all the requirements of experience? Is my heartache enough to allow me entrance into your standard of adulthood?”

I was shocked by the vitriol in her statement. I thought we’d worked it all out. “I explicitly said not to do this, Seven. So, if what you’ve been doing is gaining experience in order to engage in a relationship with me, you’ve absolutely fucked it up.” I was furious. After all I’d been through, all that I’d given up, Seven wasn’t the victim here.

She collapsed into tears, “Why can I never have the one I want?”

I wrapped my arms around her and let her cry it out on my shoulder. “What Lt. Orthun did was detestable, Seven. I’m so sorry.” When she calmed down, I sat her on my sofa, replicated peppermint tea and sat quietly, waiting until she was ready to talk. After a few minutes, she spoke:

“I did as you asked. I allowed myself to engage more intimately. Everything was as you said. The act of copulation could be physically pleasurable but, it was empty when with someone I did not care for. I did not love Orthun. But I cared for her. I believed that was the most I would get. Over time, we became close. We engaged in copulation and I found it pleasurable. There was no emptiness when we were together. But there was no love on my part. It did not seem to matter until she expressed her love for me. I expressed to her that I cared for her, but I did not love her. Perhaps it would take me longer. She accepted this, agreed to give me time. But, as time passed and she continued to express her love, I found I could not say the words if I did not feel them. She grew resentful, angry. Eight weeks ago, she accused me of loving someone else. I told her the truth. She was furious. Who is it? Who is it? ‘ _The Captain.’_ I told her. She laughed. She said it was a schoolgirl crush. That I needed to get over my adolescent fantasies. I told her that what I felt for you would never be. That I cared for her and it was enough for me. She grew more distant. Last week I discovered she had been copulating wigth Ensign Grogan. I don’t understand why this hurts. I didn’t love her.”

I held her, soothed her. “Because your trust was broken.”

Seven nodded. “I was never going to be with another while with her. I assumed that is what was required in a monogmaous relationship. I didn’t know that one of the parties in a monogamous relationship would engage in copulation with another. I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

“You did nothing wrong, Seven. You acted honorably. Unfortunately, not everyone is built like you. Honor isn’t important to them.”

“It is important to you.”

“Yes. Very important.”

“That’s why you would not copulate with me. Because of your honor. It would have been easier to be with me, to satisfy your feelings, but you knew that it would be to my detriment.”

“I did.”

“You made the more painful choice.”

I nodded, my throat aching from holding back tears. “I did.”

“It was necessary that I be allowed to experience the full array of permutations in human sexual relationships and you understood that.”

“I did.”

“If we had entered a relationship and I had not engaged in an exploration of my sexuality, one day I would resent that I did not get to have those experiences.”

“Yes.”

“You sacrificed your own needs for me. To allow me to be fully human at this phase of my development. I came to understand this when I had to do the same for others who desired me. Even as I desired them, I understood I could not give them what they needed even though they believed I could. It was… difficult. But, I understood that the end result would be painful for them and, if I was to be honorable, I must cause them less pain now to avoid worse pain in the future.”

Tears steamed down my face, “Yes, Seven. Exactly. Yes.”

**< ><><><><><><><>**

I spent the next 3 weeks, 4 days and 15 hours recovering from the emotional damage over the unexpected end of my relationship. I found myself engaging in introspection. A thing foreign to the Borg. Through the pain I had suffered I learned I had acquired a set of deeper emotions. I used these feelings to process all I had learned about what humans considered intimacy. It was much more complex and nuanced than I had understood. I was frustrated by this. It did not follow logic.

In my processing, I came away with the realization that I had not truly known Lt Orthun. And she had not known me. Just as the Captain had explained, one must “know” the other person on a deeper level before proceeding with a relationship.

I now understood that to be known was an important requirement of long term intimacy. That, to the one you are in a relationship with, allowing them to reveal their true selves, their ‘soul’ is the distinction between acquiring a short term copulation partner and a long term relationship with the object of your desire. I realized it took time to know the private person, the true soul, hiding inside the public persona.

I did not know how this level of intimate knowledge was acquired. I began to spend more time in the mess hall, observing pairs of humans together. What I noted was that the “knowing” needed to be reciprocal. Most conversations stayed on a surface level, but, a few shifted when one of the parties offered information of a more private nature about their own circumstances. Initially, I saw this as an error, to reveal a vulnerability to someone. It gives your opponent an advantage. This qould be akin to giving your enemy a map of your weaknesss. The Borg would have loved such a map. But, as I observed further, I noted that, in pairs, with close friendships, this exposure brought about kindness and empathy and was followed by a reciprocal revelation of an intimate nature. I understood that this was how humans gained closeness, to essentially reveal to a person: “Here is where my pain lies” and allow them the opportunity to honor that revelation. I saw that this reciprocal confession of intimate, private, feelings creates a bond between the two members of the pair.

I believed this was a path to forming a closer bond with the Captain. If I was to know her then, she must know me. And, in order to know me I would be required to display a human quality I detested: Vulnerability. I was terrified. This would take a great risk on my part. It flew against every Borg instinct I had. I was still hard wired, in essence, to disguise and repress any flaws that would give my enemy a target. And yet, as my Borg systems sounded every alarm at their service, I still proceded with my plan.

That night, I invited the Captain to Astrometrics to show her a series of nebulas I had mapped. I used this occasion as a means of allowing the Captain to know more about me. I determined, beforehand that, in that session, I would have to reveal a weakness to the Captain, a vulnerability that had caused me pain. A vulnerability that I had held close guard on.

As we stared at the glowing nebulas, I spoke about my experience of my capture by Voyager. Things I previously could not give voice to because I lacked an understanding of the emotions it generated.

“Do you remember when you captured me, Captain?”

“Of course I do, Seven.”

“I was deeply unhappy for a long time.”

“Yes.”

“You continued to reach out to me, to insist I grow into my humanity.”

“Yes.”

“I hated you.”

She looked surprised.

“Being Borg was perfection to me. You stole my perfection.”

She simply listened, nodding thoughtfully.

“It was wrong of you to do that.”

“I suppose, to you, it must have seemed that way.”

“Sometimes,…“ I drew in a breath, “… I still feel that way.”

Again, surprise colored her face. I felt a creeping nausea warning me not to expose myself. Yet, I knew, if I wished for closeness, I must plunge ahead with my confession. "And, despite my love for you, there are times, even now, when I feel betrayed by your unilateral decision to 'save' me." I noted the look of angish from my Captain. "Even now, Seven? With all that you've experienced so far?"

“Yes. I do not necessarily ‘like’ humanity, Captain. It follows no logic, it has no rules, and, because of this, it causes pain. I do not like pain. I prefer no pain.”

She laughed, “I also would prefer no pain. But, that pain often brings lovelier things long after it has passed.”

I nodded, “Yes. My pain at the betrayal of Lt Orthun awakened an understanding of what pain must feel like for others and a desire not to cause it.”

“It only does that if you’re a decent human being, Seven. For some, it generates hatred and a desire to give as much pain as possible to others.”

“I have also experienced that. When you rejected me. I wished to cause you pain.”

“I see…”

“I believe I succeeded. Though I know you would never admit it because it would make you too vulnerable.”

She sat very still, took in a breath, “It wasn’t just about not being vulnerable. It was painful at times but, I understood why you were behaving that way. Sometimes, I was very angry and hurt but, mostly, I had compassion. I knew you were hurting and I knew your efforts at sleeping around indiscriminantly weren’t going to ease your pain but... yes. At times your actions did cause me pain." Here it was. The reciprocal revelation.

“You are a kind person, Captain. You have good human qualities. I don’t believe I will ever acquire the same level of humanity that you have.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Seven.”

We sat and stared at the nebulas, shifting and glowing.

Over the next several days I continued to find mutual interests that the Captain and I could share in. I had no goal except to know her and to be known. It was an unmapped road for me. I had no idea what this latest experiment would yield.

As our moments together increased, I discovered that the Captain was most prone to expressing more private thoughts late at night, in her quarters. If she had consumed a whiskey or two, the results were even better. I made several forays into visiting her at a later and later hour. I do not believe she sleeps because, every time I intruded, she was awake, in her casual dress, or her nightgown and robe.

My initial attempts at revealing vulnerabilities were difficult and awkward. But, they yielded great reciprocal revelations. Things I would have never known if I had not opened myself to the Captain. I learned of her guilt about stranding her crew in the Delta Quadrant and that, despite her public show of constant certainty, she was plagued by doubt. It was why she couldn’t sleep. “Every time my head hits the pillow I remember why we’re here and who’s responsible.”

I learned that she sometimes worried she drank too much, that she hated her uniform as it was scratchy and didn’t breathe. I learned that she was lonely. Not through anything she said but, by observing the way her shoulders relaxed when we would speak to each other of our deeper thoughts and feelings.

As time progressed, I grew braver. In a way, I wished to see at what point it would be too much for her. At what level of exposure would my faults and sins, the chaos of my inner emotions, be rebuffed or denounced? She never flinched. As for my own reaction to learning more about Captain Janeway, It was a revelation. To discover so much more about the contradictory, wounded, doubtful, woman she was… and to find myself more moved by her at each revelation.

**< ><><><><><><><>**

I noticed that Seven was changing, that she was had gained insight because of the pain she’d been through and seh was asking more questions about her own assumptions.

I won’t lie, having her seek me out and watching her growing humanity gave me great pleasure. At first, I maintained a healthy emotional distance, not wanting to give her any false hope about a relationship between us. But, as time went by, I realized she had no ulterior motive. She seemed to be engaging in some sort of effort to find closeness with someone she trusted. I was happy to be the object of this effort.

I learned more about her in the few weeks we’d been meeting than in the entire 4 years of her time on Voyager. I was surprised at the depth of her feelings, at her ability to open herself up to me. She had become surprisingly tender and thoughtful.

I began to look forward to our time together. I felt many of my heavier burdens lifted from my shoulders simply by having this achingly beautiful, tender creature as a confidante for my darker thoughts and unrelenting guilt. I was a better Captain because I had someone I could express my burdens to. I was no longer weighed down by my loneliness, my constant state of command. There was one person I could do this with and she had been stellar at listening without judgement.

Unfortunately, there was a painful side effect to these mutual revelations. I was more in love with her than I’d ever been.

**< ><><><><><><><>**

I had been engaging the Captain with some frequency in activities that I knew she enjoyed. But, I knew from my observations that, at some point, one of the parties in the pair had to alter the parameters of the relationship toward intimacy or the relationship would remain platonic.

This next phase would be difficult. I did not wish to make the Captain uncomfortable. I also knew my altering of the parameters could not be so obvious that she would immediately raise a protest.

Romance. I needed romance. As a Borg, I was inexperienced in this matter. My mess hall observations had yielded a few insights.

I invited her to holodeck for a ride on horseback. Tom had programmed an Old West holographic world. She met me in her riding outfit, seemingly pleased to engage in this endeavor. We lead our horse through dense forest, over streams and into a meadow where I revealed the picnic lunch I had packed.

“How thoughtful!”

“I believe you told me that you’re favorite food on a picnic is fried chicken and a salad called ‘cole slaw.’ I hope I have replicated these to your expectations.” She immediately took the blanket and spread it out on a suitable area as I laid out the food in a pleasing array.

I watched as she ate her chicken, watched her blue eyes turn bluer. Her half grin slid into position, she looked at me and I felt my heart rate increase. That look. Unguarded affection.

I continued in this manner for a number of weeks. Gradually increasing the romantic nature of each foray together. It had to be without expectation and it had to be pure or the Captain would feel it was unseemly. I needed a place where we could meet, where the Captain could feel safe and would be able to enjoy our spending time together without the burden of 24th century sexual expectations. This was not how the Captain operated. She was a stickler for protocol, had a core sense of decency, and did not respond positively to feeling pressured.

In my many discussions with Lt. Paris about his fascination with 20th Century Earth history, I discovered a mutual admiration between the Captain and Lt Paris for a particular period and location that would serve all my needs.

**< ><><><><><><><>**

I don’t know how she did it but, Seven replicated 1940s Brooklyn on Holodeck 2. How she knew I was enamored of that partricular era of Earth history was beyond me. I studied it in depth at the Academy. I voraciously read about the many factors that had created these great men. This is what informed my ideal of the kind of officer I wanted to be.

Let’s be clear, I know I’m being wooed. I’m no fool, I’ve been wooed before and this is what it looks like. And she’s doing it magnificently. It took my breath away, to see how far she had come in the last year. To watch how her humanity was shaping into something quite extraordinary. This tender, caring, patient, thougthful soul.

We giddily replicated outfits appropriate for the time period. She chose high-waisted trousers and a cotton blouse for herself. She looked absolutely stunning in the broad shoulder pads of that era. For me, she replicated a simple A-line dress with a lovely floral print. We began spending our mutual afternoons off attending double matinees. Afterward, she’d whisk me to a corner malt shop where we’d share a butterscotch sundae or a chocolate malt… two straws. Sometimes she’d replicate currency and we’d go shopping at a store called “Macy’s.” We delighted at “the latest technology” that 1942 had to offer: The diode tube television set.

She wanted to buy one but, I mentioned that, to have such a thing available only in the holodeck would make it difficult to use. Our next afternoon, she had “rented” a two bedroom 5th floor walk up on a bustling street with an Italian deli below. We spent that afternoon watching our television set as it broadcast the Radio City Matinee and I took a catnap during a boxing match. I was awakened by the smell of dinner. Seven made it using a 1940s cook book: Tuna Casserole and a gelatine dessert. I’d never had either, but instantly knew it was comfort food. Something I hadn’t had since being stranded in the Delta Quadrant.

Spending time in our small apartment, wandering the streets of the bustling neighborhood, attending the matinees, was the purest pleasure I’d ever experienced during our entire voyage. 

I wasn’t a fool, though. I knew what it was about.

**< ><><><><><><><>**

I know the Captain is on to me. But, she can raise no protest as I have behaved impeccably.

As our time in the holodeck progressed, I found myself fighting all of my intense urges to escalate our interactions to one of greater intimacy. It was most difficult to spend hours with my beautiful Captain, watching her pleasure, sensing her own desire, and to never act upon the clear signals we had been giving each other. I had vowed I would not be the first one to make a move but, it had become increasingly difficult in light of palpable sexual tension that had grown between us. Still, I must remain strong. This is not mine to take. It is hers to give.

After several weeks, I abandoned hope. It seemed that my iron-willed Captain could outlast the relentless Borg. Then, she requested three days of personal priority time and I noted in the logs that she planned to spend them on Holodeck 2. I was uncertain what this meant. Was her plan to spend those days alone, in the apartment, to have a break from the ship and the Delta Quadrant? Or, was this an invitation? I puzzled over it for 21 hours, then requested my own personal time, attired myself in my trousers and blouse and entered the program.

I entered the apartment to find her on a step ladder, cleaning food off the ceiling.

“Captain?”

“Oh! Seven! You’re not supposed to be here to see this! I was attempting to make dinner for you.”

“How did food get on the ceiling?”

“I was trying to use something called a pressure cooker. I wanted to make a pot roast. I have no idea what I did wrong…”

I helped her down from the step stool and saw tears forming. “I’ve ruined dinner.”

I pulled her into my arms, “We will order out. From that Chinese place you like.”

The tears flowed stronger, “But this mess…”

“Computer,” I commanded, “Remove scattered food elements from all surfaces.”

She smiled, “Now, why didn’t I think of that? I guess I forgot this is an illusion.”

“Your terrible cooking skills are no illusion, Captain.”

She laughed. I sat her upon the sofa and left to retrieve our dinner.

<><><><><><><><>

We watched the television as we ate, some sort of variety show. I fell asleep in her arms on the couch. I awoke in my own bedroom the next morning to the smell of pancakes. We sat at our little kitchen table and planned our day. She took me to a baseball game. Seven had studied the rules and tried as best she could to educate me. Fortunately, the hot dog and beverage I ate needed no explanation. Heaven.

It was late when we got out, the evening air taking on an autumn chill. Seven wrapped her jacket around my shoulders and her arm around my waist as we made our way home. The streets were sparse, being lit by the soft amber glow from people’s windows. As we walked we passed pleasant scenes of domesticity unfolding in people’s private lives. Each window presenting a portrait of a young couple in love, a family gathering around the dinner table, an older man taking his dinner on the sofa as he listened to a radio program. As we neared our apartment we were treated to the strains of a beautiful waltz.

 **< ><><><><><><><>**

Without warning the Captain grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into the empty street. She placed a hand on my shoulder and one on my waist and led me through a slow, tantalizing dance.

I do not have the vocabulary to describe how my arms felt as they slid around her waist, how my hands tingled as they teased along her back, how our hips fit together, how her leg felt when she thrust it between mine. Until now, I had happily been ensconced in Borg data mining mode. Researching, assessing, clocking, adjusting. When she laid her head against my breastbone and I smelled her auburn hair, I was suddenly in the moment. A thing the Captain had tried to press me to do many times. I could not. It was an abstract concept to me. How does one “be” in a “moment?” By smelling the hair of one’s true love, nestled against her shoulder.

We moved rhythmically to the strains of the music, enmeshed in each other. When the selection finished, the Captain looked at me. She was flushed and sweating, her cheeks having taken on a rosy complexion in the cool night, her eyes wide and sparkling with mischief. She pushed herself onto her toes and leaned up to feather her lips along mine. I reciprocated as we engaged in a thrust and parry with our lips, teeth and tongues. Feeling the warmth of her mouth with my own, I experienced a weakening of my legs as desire shot through me.

She broke away, took me by the hand and led me up the five floors to our apartment.

 **< ><><><><><><><>**

_Who was I kidding?_ I thought as I led Seven to our apartment. I was madly in love with this woman. _What was I waiting for? Permission? When had I ever waited for permission when my instincts told me what was right? Never. Not even from Star Fleet._

I was throbbing with love-lust. The months of the long, slow, burn Seven had been courting me with finally ignited. As soon as the door to our apartment closed I ravished her with my attentions. We curled up on the sofa and exlored each other’s bodies.

“Kathryn…” she finally croaked, “I cannot continue to engage in this manner.”

I pulled away and looked at the poor woman, pink with passion around her cheeks, lips red and plump from my vigorous attacks on them. I stood and unclasped my dress, shirking it off to pool at my feet. I stood before her in bra and panties, my breathing ragged and uneven. She crossed to me, her hands reaching out tentatively to stroke along my stomach, my back, my thighs. I suddenly felt myself lifted up as Seven carried me to her bed in her pitch dark room. She laid me down and I heard the clasp and zip of her trousers, the rustle of her cotton blouse being unbuttoned, pulled over her head. Then I felt her hands gently grasp the sides of my underpants. I lifted my hips to allow them to slide off, then sat up and leaned forward to let her unclasp my bra. I felt a sudden draft as she left me then, heard the striking of a match and watched as the room was bathed in candlelight. She was exquisite. Her breasts, her hips, the small patch of blonde hair between her thighs, perfection.

I felt a surge of want so deep I didn’t know if I would last another minute. I slid under the covers, lifting one end and inviting her in. She moved like silk in water, pouring herself into bed next to me. As soon as our skin made contact we both let out a long, low moan. A moan of pleasure too long denied. As aroused as we were our pace was slow, measured.

I was dizzy with arousal. Those plush lips sucking at mine, moist and warm. Her hand softly squeezing my breast, her fingers teasing along the underside, then barely skating across the nipple. I reveled in the feel of her ass in my hands, so impossibly smooth and round and white. I guided her hips, pulling her against me, grinding my groin into hers.

When she left my lips to turn her attention to my breasts, I felt such emotion well up for this beautiful soul that I felt so safe with, that I could allow myself to be seen so raw and vulnerable with. All that she had endured and somehow, she had come out of it filled with hope and love and tenderness.

Slowly she worked her way down my torso, those wonderful lips stopping to delight me at every turn. I was consumed by a deep, deserate ache to transmit my love for her through our intimacy. I needed her to know that she was loved. That she would always be loved. By me.

When Seven slid into position between my thighs I was caught off guard by a flurry of quick, involuntary gasps of sheer lust. She glanced up at me and I witnessed a pleased grin. A grin, from my borg. How had I gotten so lucky?

She wrapped her mouth around my labia and clitoris and, just using her lips, kissed her way into my wetness, groaning in pleasure at the taste. I tangled my fingers in her hair, pulling and stroking as her tongue made itself known. _This won’t take long_ , I thought. But, Seven expertly teased me up and back over and over until I was begging her, “Oh, god, Seven, please. Please.” I swear I heard her snicker. I assume she found amusement in making her Captain beg instead of command.

She paid no mind to my pleas, continuing to trace that artful tongue into all the right places, then, as I started to tense, backing off, waiting. Finally, when I felt I couldn’t take it anymore, she literally dove in. Her face shoved against my groin, her lips and tongue working at a furious pace. A perfect, borg rhythm, increased by nanoseconds as I climbed to the height of my orgasm. When I realized it was a certainty, when I felt myself in that pre-orgasm state, Seven somehow managed to slow and tease, keeping me in that bliss for minutes before she made her final circuits of my clitoris with a hard, deep, rapid pace. I arched up off the bed, a strangled cry bursting forth as my body was seized by the convulsions.

**< ><><><><><><><> **

We are dating. It is offical. She has made the announcement to the senior officers and will gradually make the crew aware of the new level of our relationship. I am… happy? I believe that is what I feel. Not at all times. But, it bursts into my day at random moments. I have discovered that the look I have when these moments occur are ripe for teasing from Lt. Torres.

“Oh god, Seven’s got that love-sick grin on her face again. Thinking about the Captain during work hours are we, Seven?”

”I think of the Captain at all hours. Except when we are together. Then I think about how my love-sickness will be cured by her expert attentions.”

“Ick! Stop! I don’t want to think of the Captain that way.”

“Why not? The Captain is an exceptional lover, Lt. Torres. Did you expect she would be less brilliant at that than any other endeavor she has passion for?”

“Gross! No. get that image out of my head.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am scheduled to have lunch with the Captain in her quarters today.”

“Lunch? Yeah, we all know what “lunch” means.”

I exit engineering, a smile settling on my face. Yes. We all know what “lunch” means.


End file.
